


Happy Endings

by sarahgene12



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Lingerie, M/M, Out of Body Experiences, Time Travel, Voyeurism, ish, literally i tried to have as much of a plot as possible but it's ALMOST porn without a plot, secretary fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 18:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18482170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahgene12/pseuds/sarahgene12
Summary: Sam leaps into a woman named Lydia who is in love with her boss. The good news is, her boss seems to be in love with her, too. The bad news is, the two of them haven't said as much, and it's Sam's job to get them together. The even worse/better news is, it's about to get VERY personal.





	1. Chapter 1

“I have a feeling our esteemed Admiral will exhibit special diligence on this particular assignment, Doctor.”  
“Be nice, Ziggy. He’s dealt with this kind of thing before, he’ll be fine.”  
“It may cause another problem with Miss Martinez.”  
“Ziggy.” There was a note of warning in Beeks’ voice this time, but she had to admit that the Project computer was probably right. As many unusual circumstances as Sam Beckett had been thrown into, she doubted the good doctor—or the Observer, for that matter—could have adequately prepared for this.   
Dr. Beeks pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed through her teeth. “Ziggy, can you tell me the exact probability that Dr. Beckett is actually there to—”  
“Consummate a love affair? My systems have that probability at an impressive 94.76%, Doctor. Shall I wake Admiral Calavicci now, or were you wanting to delay the inevitable?”  
“Option B, for now, please. Let Al sleep. Let me figure something out.”  
“Yes, Doctor.”  
Dr. Beeks began to rise from her chair when an idea struck her.   
“Ziggy? Don’t wake the Admiral just yet. Could you see if Miss Martinez has clocked in this morning?”  
“You surprise me, Doctor.”  
“I make it my daily initiative to surprise you, Ziggy. Please ring Tina for me.”  
“Ooh, this will be fun.”

 

“Me?!” Tina squeaked, slapping her neon-pink lacquered hands to her cheeks. Beeks couldn’t tell for sure if she was thrilled or terrified.   
“But why? What’s the matter with Al? Doesn’t he wanna go?” Tina’s expression of shock flipped like a playing card into one of deep concern; her lips puckered in a pink pout that Beeks knew all too well drove not just Al, but every male staff member down there completely nuts. It was probably how she’d first hooked Gooshie.   
She stepped closer to Tina, wanting to keep their conversation private. She soon discovered what she gained in secrecy, she lost in her ability to breathe: Tina’s perfume gave her the sickening sensation of having had stuck her face directly into a cloud of candy floss.   
“We haven’t woken the Admiral yet, Miss Martinez. But Gooshie and I (a fib; the weepy-eyed, foul-breathed scientist had yet to be woken up himself) have decided it might be best if we get someone else to help Dr. Beckett this time, just this once.”  
Tina frowned. “Why? What’s the big deal this time? D’he jump back inta Vietnam or somethin’? Cuz I know that bothered Allie that one time, but he’d wanna go anyway, he gets real bullheaded about helpin’ Sam, no matter what. “ She dropped her voice to a whisper, leaning in to Beeks even more. “He might get real mad, Dr. Beeks. He don’t like gettin’ pushed outta stuff like this.”  
Verbena smiled at her, patting the girl’s shoulder with a gentle hand. “Don’t worry, Tina. I can handle Albert, probably almost as well as you can. Now, do you remember when Sam leaped into someone named Samantha Storm?”  
Tina rolled her eyes, curling a whisp of hair between her fingers. “Oh sure, how could I forget her? Drop dead gorgeous, right, had all those skimpy outfits Sam hadta wear? Oh yeah, Al pulled all kinds of crap about feelin’ real bad about it at the time, but y’know, I ain’t dumb, I know who he sees when Sam does his little trick, and I still ain’t over the fact Al Jr. got camera shy all the sudden, that whole time!”  
Beeks could feel a headache coming on even before Tina stopped for breath.   
“Why’dja ask about her for?”  
Beeks could swear she could sense Ziggy holding back a giggle.  
“It seems, Miss Martinez, that we’ve come across a similar situation, on this leap. But it’s a little bit more…delicate, this time. We thought it best if we sent you instead of Al, exactly because of the Samantha Storm problem.”  
Tina narrowed her eyes. “Cuz I’m right, ain’t I? He does see Sam when he goes, huh? All done up like a frickin’ crossdresser, and then I get nothin’ from Al for like a month.”  
Beeks nodded slowly. “Yes, I believe you are correct. But for all our sakes, don’t take your problems with the Admiral out on Dr. Beckett, would you? All we’re asking of you is to get him through this leap as quickly and painlessly as possible, and if we can leave Albert out of it completely, perhaps the two of you can talk a few things out when you return.”   
Tina mimicked the doctor’s hesitant nod. “Sure, sure. We’ll have a couch session, just you, me, and frickin’ Victor/Victoria out there.”   
Dr. Beeks opened her mouth to correct her, but Ziggy got there first: “Excuse me, Miss Martinez, but I think you’ve mixed your euphemisms. If you were trying to refer to the Admiral, I could provide a list of much more suitable terms. Quite a lot of them are international, it could be quite an educational experience. For example, a Grimm’s Fairy—”  
“Yes, thank you Ziggy, that’s quite enough!” snapped Beeks. Tina’s face had gone an alarmingly dark shade of red.   
She stomped over to the control board, snatching up a handlink violently enough to make Beeks wince at the sound of acrylic nails scraping against glass.   
“Open the door, you stupid pile of chips.”   
“I’m afraid I can’t do that until you’ve put your hand on the palm reader, Miss Martinez.”  
Tina did as she was instructed, the muscles in her jaw twitching. The door opened and she stepped inside, her heels clicking loudly on the steel floor of the chamber. Before it closed on her again, Dr. Beeks thought she saw Tina take an enormously deep breath, and hold it.

 

When Sam swiped a hand across his mouth, it came away bright red.  
This would have alarmed him immediately in any other situation, but this particular physicist had been around the block (make that, space-time continuum) enough times to recognize the waxy, heavy feel of lipstick, and knew he wasn’t in any danger.   
He looked around the room, subconsciously scraping a fingernail along the top and sides of his mouth to fix any lipstick that might be left.   
He was in an office of some kind, plainly furnished with a wide, dark wooden desk, rich brown leather chair, and a second, smaller desk parked beside the first. This desk was accompanied only with a wooden stool, and a hulking green Olympia typewriter.   
A cold, half-smoked cigar sat on the ashtray on the larger desk, beside the rotary telephone. A man’s wool sports coat hung on the back of the executive chair. The rest of the room was bare: wide, blank white walls and open, high-shining oak floors from the edge of the desk to the door, some ten feet beyond.  
The only decoration Sam could see was a calendar on the wall behind the two desks. It was the sort with tear-away paper for each day, with the top showing a painted Western scene of a cowboy astride a strong-looking palomino stud, staring out beyond at a line of hazy green mountains. The painting was labeled “The Antelope Hunter” and the sheet below it told Sam it was September 17th, 1955.   
From the year, and the lipstick, Sam knew he wasn’t the owner of the wool jacket or the bigger of the two desks. He suspected instead that he belonged to the wooden stool, and the thin red cardigan hanging from the hat tree in the corner.   
“Oh boy.”   
The only kind of mirror he could see was in the back of a tall book cabinet, mostly empty, standing against the wall opposite the hat tree. The moment he took a step towards it, he recognized the familiar click of narrow heels, and felt his ankles wobble. He looked down.  
Red pumps, with a heel thin enough to pick your teeth, and miles above that, a very short, crisp white taffeta skirt, rasping against a perfect pair of nylons. Sam groaned, and walked carefully towards the mirrored shelf, placing one foot very purposefully in the front of the other. The skirt pulled taut with every step, and he wondered what kind of woman wore something so salacious in what was obviously a business office, in 1955.   
He opened the cabinet door, and bent over slightly to find out. What he saw surprised him. Whoever she was, she wasn’t young; there were thin lines in the corners of her eyes, and one or two stray grey hairs which had pulled free from the Marilyn Monroe-esque bob she’d made of her voluminous black hair. Sam thought she had a nice face, with slightly rounded pale cheeks, a little rouge, and only a little eyeliner on the outer edges of her dark brown eyes.   
The rest of her outfit was less alarming than the skirt: a sleeveless black blouse with a ruffled collar and tiny pearl buttons, and only a pair of teardrop gold earrings for jewelry. Sam decided he liked this woman already.  
He was still bent at the waist, wiping at a smear of lipstick he had missed, when he heard the Imaging Chamber door open and close behind him.   
“Oh Christ.”   
Sam whirled. “Tina! What are you doing here? Where’s Al?”  
Tina smacked the handlink against her hip, her expression stormy. “Well hiya, Sammy. Jeez. First time ya see me in nearly a year and I get ‘where’s Al’?”   
Sam frowned, and reached for her arm; Tina took a step backwards, and it was another second or two before they realized, simultaneously, that Sam couldn’t have touched her anyway.   
Tina smiled thinly. “Sorry, hon, that wasn’t fair. I just gotta—we hadta send me instead of Al kinda in secret, he’s still sleepin’. And Ziggy’s havin’ a ball with this one.”   
She let her eyes scan Sam from head to toe and back again, and her smile became even thinner. “Have you seen yourself yet, toots?”   
Sam nodded, tugging a little self-consciously on the hem of the skirt. “Yeah, yeah I have. Can you tell me who I am? And why did you have to go in secret? What’s goin’ on, Tina?”   
Before answering, Tina stared hard at the handlink, worrying one of her fingernails between her teeth.   
Though he couldn’t touch her, Sam took three steps closer to her, his hands on his hips. Still pretending to be engrossed in whatever the computer said, Tina took a single step back. Just before Sam could open his mouth, she looked up, dropping the handlink to her side.   
“Your name is Lydia Fox, okay? You’re 44 years old, you ain’t never been married, and you’re secretaryin’ for a guy named John Auckland. He’s a big copyright lawyer, head of the whole firm. It’s 1955, and you’re in Kansas City, Missouri. You got all that?”   
Sam was frowning again. Tina threw up her hands. “What, Sammy? Did I miss somethin’?”   
He stepped back from her, scooting himself up on the edge of the desk. Tina watched, amused even through the coiled irritation in her chest. Sam let the red high heels slip from his feet and onto the floor.   
“You haven’t told me what I’m here to do. Or doesn’t Ziggy know that yet?”  
Tina shrugged, looked Sam straight in the eye, and made sure she was speaking clearly when she said simply: “John Auckland.”  
Sam slid down from the desk. “What?”  
“Fix your skirt, sweetie, it’s ridin’ up.”   
“No, Tina, I asked you what I was here to do, and all you said was John Auckland, what about him, he’s her boss right? Is he in trouble?”   
Tina pinched the bridge of her nose, and made herself take three deep breaths before trying again. “You know, I miss dealin’ with people like you, Sammy. You’re still so…so freakin’ innocent. When you asked me what you hafta do, I said John Auckland. And that’s what I meant. You gotta do John Auckland. As in, you gotta have sex with him. Well, Lydia’s gotta have sex with him, technically.”   
She crossed her arms and watched him carefully. In her left hand, the handlink beeped and squawked. Sam’s face was a blank, but his hands kept tugging the edges of Lydia’s skirt.  
“Sammy?”   
The blank stare transformed into a look Tina remembered well. He was squinting, and his mouth hung slightly open; it was the expression he had worn almost permanently in the beginning days of the Project, when he was still tinkering around inside Ziggy, before the Imaging Chamber or the computer Tina now held in her hand existed anywhere besides his whirling, working mind.   
When he spoke, it was in a voice so quiet she had to lean in close to hear him. “But I—I can’t h-have… I mean, I don’t—I’m not actually—”   
“Equipped?” suggested Tina. Sam’s cheeks flushed bright red, and he nodded.   
Tina actually laughed, forgetting all about why she’d been angry. She raised her hands and made as if to cup Sam’s blushing face in her palms, though her hands stopped just short of his skin. “Oh sweetie, you are so cute sometimes! It’s not that weird if ya think about it! I mean, to John it’ll be like he’s makin’ love to Lydia, and to you it’ll feel like he’s doin’ it to you! I know you probably ain’t never done that before, but I don’t think you gotta worry too much about disease, this bein’ the fifties, and Auckland’s only been divorced a coupla months—”  
“He’s divorced? Tina, you’re trying to tell me I came here to—t-to— I’m supposed to help this woman have an affair with her boss? That can’t be right!”   
Tina rolled her eyes, still grinning. “It’s not an affair, I told you! He’s divorced, and she never got married! Ziggy says they’ve been in love with each other for years, but she was afraid of losing her job if she made a move, and of course he was married, up until like four months ago! But Lydia’s still afraid of losing her job ’cause she doesn’t think her feelin’s are reciprocated, right? Plus she’s not exactly a spring chicken, she probably thinks that he thinks she’s too old, ’specially to start a family!”   
“That’s ridiculous, woman can have children well into their forties,” Sam said, his voice quiet again.  
“They didn’t know that in the fifties, Sammy. And from what I’ve read on Lydia, she coulda been a star child like you, if she’d been allowed to go any further in school! She started out majorin’ in chemistry before somebody told her there was no use, she’d be better off in the secretary pool, where there’s always jobs and nice rich young men lookin’ for a wife.” Tina said this last like the whole idea made her want to vomit. Her knuckles were white on the fingers clutching the handlink.   
Now it was Sam’s turn to reach out, as if he were comforting her. His hand stopped less than an inch above her shoulder. He opened his mouth intending to reassure her, to say that he remembered some things about how hard she had worked to get on the Project, how people still thought she was just a dumb pretty thing. He couldn’t remember what she had majored in, or even exactly what she did at the Project, but he knew she was afraid of ending up like Lydia.  
But then something occurred to him. “Tina, what does any of this have to do with you helping me instead of Al?”   
Tina huffed, still not loosening her grip on the handlink. “You probably don’t remember leapin’ in to somebody called Samantha Storm, do you?”  
Sam shook his head.   
“Yeah okay, well , she was this tall, blonde, gorgeous thing with legs up to her freakin’ neck, and boobs the size of my head, pretty much, and Al just went completely gaga over her, y’know like he does, except he had to be around her, to help you, an’ he was totally weird about it because it kinda was you, y’know, so he went and had this big fat crisis and I didn’t get any from him for like a week. I mean Al Junior just kinda went—” she demonstrated what she meant with her index finger, by holding it out straight then letting it droop.   
Sam looked uncomfortable. “Tina, I didn’t need to know about—about that, I just wondered why you had to go behind his back and come here yourself. I mean, Lydia’s way older than what he’s usually—I mean, she’s way older than you.”   
“Nice save, sweetie.” Tina smiled her tight smile again. “It doesn’t really matter, okay? It was Dr. Beeks’ idea anyway, not mine. We probably won’t be here long anyway, as long as you don’t lose your nerve last minute. All Ziggy says is that they gotta have sex, and after that they start a relationship and get married like a year later. But in the original history, nobody makes a move, and they just go around with all that tension for years, and eventually Lydia gets phased out by the higher ups to make room for the younger, prettier secretaries. So, I know it might be weird for you, but you just gotta do it once, and maybe Al won’t even have to know, huh? It’ll be fine. And you’ll be helping a woman who doesn’t really have many other options at this point.”   
Again Sam was struck by how quickly Tina had attached herself to the stranger for whom Sam was standing in. He nodded slowly, hoping his face did little to betray how anxious he really was.   
“O-okay, Tina. And who knows? Maybe Ziggy’s wrong, maybe I won’t have to.. y’know. Maybe I can get them together some other way. People can—can connect in other ways, and it sounds like Lydia and John are supposed to be together no matter what, right? So maybe—”  
The office door opened. “Lydia, are you still here?”   
Sam and Tina turned towards the door at the same time. Sam heard Tina whisper “Wow.”   
The man Sam assumed to be John Auckland stood at the other end of the office, peering around the door as if the room beyond wasn’t his office, but hers.   
“Oh. Hi.” He smiled at Sam. Sam smiled weakly back, one hand reaching blindly behind for the edge of the desk.   
“I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just wondering if you were still here. It’s nearly 7, you know.”  
“O-oh, is it? I didn’t realize,” Sam managed, barely registering Tina, whose eyes had gone huge.   
John stepped fully into the room, letting the door swing wide. Tina squeaked. Sam’s immediate thought was that his boss (wait no, Lydia’s boss) was the spitting image of a young James Garner. His second thought was that the suit he was wearing looked expensive.   
“Are you alright, Miss Fox?” His brow furrowed with an expression of concern, and Sam’s grip tightened on the desk behind him.   
“Yes! Yes of course!”   
That smile again, even lovelier than before. “That’s terrific. Well, you can go on home now, we’ve got an early start tomorrow, remember. I think Mr. Calcini’s going to pursue his claim after all.”   
“Great! I’ll—I’ll be sure to go straight to bed, Mr. Auckland, you bet!” Sam could’ve kicked himself.   
A funny, puzzled look crossed Auckland’s face briefly, before he retreated back through the doorway. With his hand on the knob, before disappearing completely, he turned back and smiled brightly yet again.   
“Goodnight then, Miss Lydia.” A wink.   
“Goodnight John.”   
When he was really gone, Sam gave up trying to keep his legs steady, and sat down on the edge of the desk. He looked at Tina.   
“ Sammy, I know you complain about bein’ stuck in time like this and I don’t blame ya, that’s gotta suck. But hon, if there was one time I’d trade places witchya, it’d be now. He is cute!”   
“Did you think he looks a little like James Garner?”   
“If James Garner looks like a hell of a time in the sack, sure. Say, you should see if he’d do it in here! This desk would be perfect!”   
Sam could feel his face burning red again. “Tina!”   
Tina giggled, hiding a big grin behind her hand. “Oh relax, Sam. It’ll be fun!”   
Sam concentrated his attention on picking a bit of lint from his nylons. Pretending to be completely engrossed in this endeavor, he said, “So. Don’t tell Al?”   
Tina winked. “I won’t if you won’t, honey.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Beeks! Where’s Beeks?!”   
Tina, Verbena, and Gushie looked up from their various consoles and met each other’s eyes warily. Al was finally awake.   
“Beeks!”   
He barged into the control room, fully dressed, hair wild, with an expression of fury distorting what was otherwise still considered a handsome face. The moment he spotted the three of them, he made his first beeline towards Dr. Beeks.   
As was true for him of everyone except Gushie, he had to look up to look her in the eye. One gnarled, nicotine-stained finger waggled in the doctor’s face.   
“You, this was you wasn’t it? Was it you sent Tina insteada me? Huh? When it’s been me, every time it’s been me, goin’ to get him outta whatever mess—”  
Dr. Beeks reached up and covered Al’s hand with her own, slowly guiding it back down until it hung at his side. Then she let go, patting the back of it gently. Al’s expression didn’t change, though he had at least stopped shouting.   
“Yes, Admiral,” she began slowly, calmly. “Sending Tina was my idea. But I assure you, it wasn’t any kind of reflection on your abilities, or because of any ungratefulness of your services to Dr. Beckett in the last five years.”   
Al opened his mouth to protest, but Dr. Beeks raised her hand to silence him. “Dr. Beckett has found himself in a rather delicate situation, one that will require…hmm...sensitivity on all our parts, and a special sort of cooperation on his.”  
“Oh I think Dr. Beckett has already decided to cooperate, Doctor. And I am sure, should he back out at any time, Miss Martinez would be all too happy to take his place.”  
Over next to Gushie, Tina blushed deep pink. Al spared a glance towards her, looking equal parts mutinous and confused, then turned back to Beeks. The finger he’d been pointing at her now jabbed towards the ceiling.   
“What’s Ziggy talking about, Beeks? Where is Sam? What does it say he’s gotta do?”  
Silence fell over the control room. Dr. Beeks steepled her hands, looking in turn at Tina, Gushie, then back at Al. She was relieved when Tina walked across the room to Al, laying one pink-nailed hand on his shoulder. The expression on the Admiral’s face softened a little at her touch.   
“Sweetie, the data we got from Ziggy was for a Lydia Fox, a secretary who’s in love with her boss. They’re supposed to get together, but in the original history they don’t. S-so, Sam is Lydia, and in order to leap out, he’s gotta make sure she and John do end up together, so that they’re happy. But..well, the thing is, see…they gotta….”   
“Sam is going to have to make love with John Auckland, Al. Just the once, just so we can be sure he and Lydia begin their relationship.”  
Dr. Beeks spoke matter-of-factly, keeping a hard eye on Al. She could almost imagine Ziggy holding back giggles. Tina had gone an even brighter shade of pink. Gushie had abandoned whatever it was he’d been doing with the computers, and was staring at the doctor, mouth dropped open.   
For a moment, Al’s face was unreadable. Almost without him realizing it, one hand went his mouth, wiping across his lips once. Then it joined the other in either trouser pocket. Another long moment passed.   
“Admiral? Are you alright?” asked Dr. Beeks in a low voice.   
A sound started in Al’s throat, almost a rumbling. The doctor watched as an odd sort of glimmer appeared in his eyes, then the sound grew louder, and louder, becoming what sounded like a painful cough. Beeks realized Al was laughing.   
Al bent at the waist , fully guffawing now, slapping one knee and wheezing. Beeks, Tina, and Gushie exchanged worried (Beeks and Tina) and confused (Gushie) looks. When Al straightened, his face was almost the same shade of red as Tina’s.   
“May I ask what is so amusing, Albert?” Beeks asked shortly. Al waved her off, wiping tears from his eyes, reduced to breathless giggles.   
“You—you tell me Sam has to—to—to make love to his—huh! To this girl’s boss? Sam? Sam Beckett? The same guy who can’t walk past an Adam & Eve’s without needin’ vapors?”   
Gushie snorted, then looked horrified when Beeks whirled to glare at him.   
“Besides, Sam ain’t never done anything like that! He’s always gotten around doin’ the dirty deed with women any time it looked like he had to, or leapt in right in the middle of things! There’s no way he’d—”  
But Al couldn’t even make himself say it. One hand escaped his trouser pocket and waved vaguely over his head, in a frantic attempt to fill in the blanks.   
Dr. Beeks shrugged. “That’s what Ziggy says he has to do. Tina has already told him, and she’s said he’s taken it very well.”  
“A thrilling choice of words, Doctor,” quipped Ziggy. Al made a rude hand gesture and threw it up towards the ceiling. Despite his earlier joke about Sam needing smelling salts to recover from walking past a lingerie store, he himself looked in dire need of a restorative.   
Choosing to ignore Al’s crudeness, Dr. Beeks continued. “Our thought was that things might run a bit more smoothly if Tina guided Sam, rather than you. Because of how your, erm, relationship with Miss Martinez suffered the last time Dr. Beckett leaped into an attractive woman.”   
Al scowled. “And I guess now everybody knows about that, huh? Our personal private business and she goes and blabs to the whole Project—”  
“I did not blab to the whole Project! You were the one who told Sam about it, and I told Dr. Beeks! She’s a woman, she understands! And you tell precious Sam everything, probably a lot more than he wants to know!”  
Tina’s voice had gone shrill, and just to the left and behind her, Gushie was wincing and plugging his ears, looking more helpless than usual. Dr. Beeks looked as if she had suddenly come down with an excruciating headache.   
“Fine! Fine! I give in! You two work it out between yourselves which one of you is going to go to Sam, and stick to it! I couldn’t care less, just so long as both of you stop shouting!” With that, the doctor turned and stormed off, her heels sounding like gunshots in the once again silent, universally stunned control room.   
Gushie immediately ran and sat down behind his desk, not wanting to get stuck between Tina and Al. Surprisingly, Tina copied his movements, marching briskly to her own desk and spinning her chair, so that her back was to Al.   
Al, meanwhile, cursed under his breath. He followed Tina quietly to where she sat, and reached out his hand.   
“Tina baby? Could I have the handlink back?”   
She held it up behind her, without looking at him. He took it, but instead of leaving, he leaned down and kissed the side of her neck, just below her right ear. “I’ll make it up to you when I get back, sugar love. I promise.” He felt her shiver, and smiled to himself. Before he made it over to the Observation room and closed the door behind him, Al Calavicci was grinning like a cat. 

 

Sam had made sure to get to the office early, nearly half an hour before Auckland was due to arrive. He had dressed and done Lydia’s hair carefully that morning, enormously glad Al hadn’t been there to watch. Lydia may have been one of the oldest secretaries left in the pool, but she certainly didn’t dress any older. The microscopic skirt she’d worn yesterday turned out to be one of a large collection, rivaled only by the piles of shoes.   
But the trouble had started long before he’d managed to put together the top layer. He’d forgotten of course the work that went into dressing like a conventional woman in the early half of the 20th century, and had treated the presentation of bras, panties, hosiery, and garters as a personal challenge. There wasn’t anything that wasn’t drowning in lace and silk, though how Lydia had managed such fine things on her meager salary he had no idea.   
After locking himself securely in the tiny bathroom, Sam pulled on the least-frilly pair of panties he could find (white, and quite racy for the era), slipped on the hose, and even managed to clip the garters on correctly the first time. He would just have to be careful not to bend down too far, nor cross his legs while sitting down. Easy.   
A conventional enough white blouse, a bra which gave him no trouble at all, and at least outwardly, he was ready. Now all he had to do was walk in Lydia’s red high heels without breaking an ankle.   
Sam was already seated at Lydia’s desk, practicing his key strokes, when John Auckland strode into the room, looking harried. Sam couldn’t help but admire the way the man carried himself.  
“Boy oh boy! What a gridlock out there! It’s nothing short of a miracle I got here before Mr. Calcini’s booking.”   
Auckland stopped suddenly, taking a second, longer glance at Sam. His eyes crawled over Sam from shoulder to toe, an expression of awe dawning over his handsome face. Sam stared purposefully at Auckland’s chin, feeling his own face grow hot.   
“Say Miss Fox. I hope it isn’t too forward of me to say this, but you’re looking especially beautiful today.”  
Sam placed a steadying hand on top of Lydia’s desk. He made himself meet Auckland’s eyes, and when he did, he discovered they were a lovely, warm brown.   
“Thank—thank you, s-sir. That’s very kind of you to say.”  
“Not at all. Were you very early today?” He’d stopped eyeing Sam and stood to remove his jacket. Without really meaning to, Sam watched him.   
“Just, just about twenty minutes or so, sir.”   
Auckland stretched his arms over his head, closing his eyes and groaning softly. When he had hung his jacket on the hat tree and turned back around, Sam had dropped his eyes to his typewriter, and was blushing brightly.  
He had also, in an unthinking moment, crossed his legs beneath the desk, and Auckland’s eyes found the short window of bare flesh, and the straining black garter, and stayed locked there for several moments.   
Five or six feet behind Auckland, the glowing blue doorway of the Observation room opened, seemingly from nowhere, and Al stepped out, the remnants of his grin still visible at the corners of his mouth.   
“Well Sammy boy, this is gonna be a weird one, huh? You wouldn’t believe the crap I had to pull just to—”  
Al stopped, right beside Auckland, staring at Sam. Without really meaning to, his eyes went to the same spot the lawyer’s had; Sam saw him swallow hard.   
“Right, well, uh, I’ll go ahead and set up for Mr. Calcini in our conference room, um. Will you be alright in here until we’re finished?”   
Sam nodded, forcing himself to meet Auckland’s eyes, and smile. “Of course, sir. I’ll keep myself occupied somehow.”   
Without another word, and looking slightly ill, Auckland simply nodded in return, turned, and walked quickly out of the room, shutting the door behind him.  
Still feeling the heat of his fading blush, Sam stared purposefully at Al. “My eyes are up here, Al.”   
The old Admiral’s eyebrows, resembling great furry caterpillars, knitted together on his forehead in a startled frown. Al raised his eyes to Sam’s face.   
“Hiya Sam. Sorry about that, uh, it’s been awhile since you’ve—well.” He waved his left hand, the one with the cigar in it, from Sam’s carefully assembled hairdo to his still crossed legs. Even from where he sat, Sam could tell Al was biting down harder on his cigar than was probably wise.   
Sam stood, wobbling a little in his high heels. “What happened to Tina?”   
Al took a long puff of his cigar, inhaling deeply and pursing his lips, letting the smoke out in little, delicate O’s. “Gee, thanks Sammy. I wake up this mornin’ to find out the boss lady sends a hopped-up intern to do my job, just cuz she thinks I can’t handle myself, as if I ain’t been givin’ it real good to Tina just about every night this week—”  
“Al!”   
Al looked up from the floor, where he’d been concentrating all his attention just a little too intensely. Sam stared at him, red-painted mouth open in an expression of shock, a high, pretty blush coloring his cheeks. The stack of papers he’d been absentmindedly straightening against his thigh were now crumpled in a tight grip; the knuckles of that hand were white.   
“What’s the matter with you, Sam? You look like you’ve been goosed or somethin’.”   
“I-I mean, I don’t need to know about y-your— that you’ve been— I don’t need any details about what you a-and Tina get up to, i-i-is all!”   
Sam’s blush had deepened, and Al watched him struggle, biting down even harder on his cigar, that toothy cat’s grin slowly reappearing on his face.   
“Ya see? I told ’em, I said you wouldn’t be able to handle this kinda thing. You’ve always been funny about sex, even the idea of other people havin’ it.”  
“I am not! I-it’s a perfectly natural part of life, I just think that some people”— here he gave Al a pointed look— “act like it’s a-a game or— or something!”  
“There are games involved, sometimes,” offered Al, still grinning. He could admit, at least to himself, that he liked making Sam squirm, and it was too easy once you got him talking about sex.   
Proving his point entirely, Sam’s face went an even deeper shade of pink, and he opened his mouth to stutter a comeback. He was interrupted by the office door suddenly swinging wide.  
John Auckland burst into the room, looking triumphant, a stack of papers in his hands and an expensive-looking pen tucked behind his ear.   
Upon Auckland’s abrupt arrival, Sam yelped in surprise, and dropped the papers he’d been halfheartedly straightening, and they scattered to the floor.   
Auckland stopped, his smile fading. “Oh, Ms. Fox, I’m sorry! Are you alright?”   
Sam dropped to his knees, bending to collect the sheets of paper. Without looking up, he said, “Yes, I’m fine, sir! You just surprised me!” He could sense Auckland standing over him, and didn’t dare to meet his eye. Not from this position.   
Instead, he crawled towards the desk, where he could see two or three papers peeking out underneath. He had just reached for them when he heard Al hiss “Oh, Christ”, and sensed Auckland moving around behind him.   
Feeling just a little bit daring, guessing he now had two pairs of eyes glued to the backs of his thighs, where he could feel the garters straining, Sam wriggled a bit, making the hem of Lydia’s skirt sway enticingly.   
He reached a bit further for the last sheet of paper, heart pounding in his chest, imagining what Al must think of him, wondering what Auckland must think of Lydia, when Sam was so obviously making her tease him. He thought he could hear one of the men breathing hard.   
When he gathered both the last of the papers and his courage, Sam wriggled out from under the desk and stood, pulling himself upright by holding on to the edge of the desk.   
When he turned around, he saw Al first. The Admiral didn’t look at him, busy instead picking bits of tobacco off his tongue; in his other hand: two halves of a still-smoldering cigar.   
He’d thought Auckland had left completely, until he heard a small click, and turned towards the sound.   
John Auckland stood with his back to Sam, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath. His right hand jangled the doorknob, and when it didn’t budge, he made a small noise of satisfaction. It was then Sam realized what he had heard.   
Auckland had locked the office door.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam stared at Auckland, subconsciously turning to put his back to the long oak desk, hands clasping the jutting edge.   
Auckland closed his eyes for a moment, at the same time raising a placating hand. To his right, Al tossed away the broken cigar; it fell to places unseen. The Admiral was still pointedly not looking at Sam.   
“I hope I’m not—I’m not frightening you, Miss Fox. I just…well I have something I need to say, and I’m going to say it, and if I’m completely wrong a-about, um, about you then I’ll, um. Well we’ll figure something out. Okay?”  
Auckland had taken a few steps away from the door, towards Sam, still holding his hand up as if worried the person currently posing as his secretary might bolt.   
Sam only nodded, still holding Auckland’s gaze, hoping his/Lydia’s face showed nothing of the fear (or, deeper down, the anticipation) he felt.   
Auckland took another three or four steps forward. “The truth is, Miss Fox, that I feel….very strongly, towards you, and I have felt this way for most of the time you’ve worked for me. N-not, not while I was still married, of course, no! B-but, very, very soon after.”   
The poor man was floundering. Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, Sam hobbled forward, concentrating very hard on not falling off Lydia’s high heels. He very nearly closed the gap between him and Auckland, stopping only when he was close enough to press a hand to the middle of his boss’s chest.   
Auckland blinked at him, surprised. Sam took a deep breath, ignoring the owl-eyed Observer in the corner. Instead, he kept his eyes locked closely on Auckland’s, experiencing a slight dizziness at the sight of his reflection in those deep muddy browns.   
“O-oh, John, no, you’re not scaring me at all, I—I get what you’re saying. A-and I feel…very strongly about you…too.”   
Auckland reached up and took the hand Sam had laid on his chest; he brought it up towards his mouth and kissed it gently. His other arm snaked around Sam’s waist, pulling him close.   
Sam stumbled a little in his heels, and he had to throw his head back to look at John directly, but he didn’t fight the embrace. Their noses nearly touched; John’s eyes dropped to Sam’s mouth.   
Aware that Al was still watching, Sam reached up and buried his fingers in John’s hair, at the same time pulling the lawyer’s head in closer to his own, closing the gap between their mouths.   
It didn’t feel any different than any other kiss he’d ever experienced; John tasted like black coffee and very vaguely of cigarettes, but he smelled of leather oil, like the kind one would use to repair an old saddle. There was a sharp, almost peppery cologne there too, but a moment later the hand with which John had been holding Sam’s hand to kiss it was no longer there but on Sam’s hip. The first two fingers had slipped under the waistband of Lydia’s skirt.   
They moved no further however and when the kiss was finally broken, John seemed to realize what he was doing and withdrew them.   
“No—”   
Sam grabbed John’s hand and guided it back to his hip. Then, though his hand shook, he guided it lower, mid-thigh. He held John’s gaze as he led his hand up under the hem of his skirt, shuddering deliciously when he felt John’s smooth palm run across his skin.   
From there John acted on his own, moving his hand until he felt the lace frills of Lydia’s panties. His fingers danced across Sam’s lower back, before slipping underneath the lace and cupping Sam’s ass. John gave him a little squeeze, and Sam gasped, again rolling his head back, the hand not tangled in John’s hair reaching back behind him, searching for the edge of the desk.   
“Step back, darling, further back,” whispered John. Sam obeyed, taking three steps backwards, until he could feel the edge of the desk against his back.   
Both of John’s hands slipped down to the backs of Sam’s thighs, and Sam felt himself lifted, for a split second absolutely weightless, until he was sat back down again, on top of the desk.   
John stepped back; Sam’s fingers dragged from his hair; Lydia’s shoes dangled from Sam’s toes and then fell with a clatter to the floor.   
They stared at one another. John stood with his arms outstretched, looking like a man caught trying to flee. His chest heaved. Sam ached to reach out and undo the buttons of his starched and shining white shirt and, without giving himself too much time to think about it, he did: he grabbed a handful of John’s shirt and pulled. John tumbled back towards him, bracing himself with his hands on either side of Sam’s hips. A quiet chuckle tickled Sam’s ear as he worked quickly at each button, cursing his discovery of the undershirt beneath.   
“Here, let me.” John pulled the shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor.   
Sam moaned softly, running a hand across John’s chest much as he had done before. Except this time he moved slower, twisting thick brown tufts of chest hair between his fingers.   
“Like that?” asked John, still whispering. His hands had moved from the desk to Sam’s knees, and when Sam whispered back, “Yes,” John’s fingers slid upwards and inwards, tickling Sam’s inner thighs. He pushed Lydia’s tiny black skirt up to Sam’s hips, fully revealing the lacy white panties and the garters, stretched as tight as piano wire.   
Humming low in his throat, John lowered his head and planted a soft, wet kiss just above Sam’s knee, then another slightly above; another above that and another; Sam was panting now, leaning back on his forearms. He watched John twist the garter straps around his fingers, then lower his head again.   
This time the tip of John’s nose tickled the spot between Sam’s hip and upper thigh. Sam was just about to ask him what he was doing when he felt a sharp nip right in that spot, and heard a small click. The small pain sent a shiver down his spine, and when he raised his head it happened again; when John raised his head, Sam realized he’d undone the garter clips with his teeth.   
Sam sat up suddenly and grabbed for John’s belt. He got his fingers in between the button of John’s trousers and the inside of the belt and pulled; John stumbled forwards again, moaning for the first time as Sam worked the buckle, the button, and the zipper free all at once.   
“Stroke me, baby….stroke me, please.”  
For the first time, Sam hesitated. “I-I don’t….”  
John took the hand that had pulled his belt free and covered it with his own. Holding Sam’s hand firmly at the wrist, he guided it down inside his trousers. He pressed Sam’s palm tight against his erection, leading him once downwards, then up.   
“Like that, baby, just like that. Please.”   
Sam’s hand closed slowly around John’s cock; his eyes flickered up towards Auckland’s, catching those beautiful, deep browns with his own.   
A slight frown dimpled John’s brow, even as his hands reached for Sam. “Is something wrong?”  
Sam shook his head almost imperceptibly, aware that his mouth was dry, aware that his hand had begun to move on its own; the expression of worry on Auckland’s face quickly dissolved. His dark eyes glittered, still locked on Sam’s.   
His hands lay palm down on the tops of Sam’s thighs, his thumbs running small, tender circles on the spot just above Sam’s knees. Making a sound almost like a purr, he raised one hand to Sam’s cheek and kissed him again, leaning into Sam’s touch; his hips had begun to roll in tandem with Sam’s hand.   
“Oh God, baby, oh god yes. Faster!”   
The next kiss sent Auckland’s teeth mashing against Sam’s, but it barely mattered: in an instant, Sam was flat on his back on top of the desk, his knees bracing John’s hips. His hand left John’s cock in order to tug the lawyer’s trousers and underwear downwards; now John’s mouth slid from his, leaving a wet trail down over his chin to his neck.  
With every kiss, John hummed low in his throat, tracing a line with his tongue down the side of Sam’s neck to the little hollow between neck and shoulder. He reached down between them and hooked the top hem of Sam’s panties with his fingers; he tore at them so violently that a quick snickk! of ripping lace reached Sam’s ears and caused him to freeze.  
John raised his head, his tanned cheeks flushed, his eyes sparkling, his hair still perfect. Sam’s heart, already running laps around his rib cage, felt full enough to burst.   
“I’m, I’m sorry, J-John. I’m just—”   
Auckland shook his head, smiling softly. His hand reached up again and cradled Sam’s cheek, so softly that Sam could barely feel the skin; just the warmth.   
“Nervous?”   
Sam nodded, suddenly unable to meet Auckland’s eyes. “I-I need you to….I-I mean, I haven’t….I’m afraid it might…….hurt.”  
He heard a gasp, too far away to have come from John. He looked up, just in time to catch Al turning his back, one hand wiping furiously at his face with a bright green handkerchief. He’d forgotten Al was there.   
“Darling,” John cooed, pressing gently on Sam’s cheek to pull his attention back— “I’ll make sure it doesn’t. I’ll make sure you’re ready. Do you trust me?”  
At the same time he asked this, his other hand pushed gently on Sam’s shoulder. “Lie back, baby. Relax.”   
Sam did as he was told, scooting himself back further onto the desk and lying flat on his back. Lydia’s top had come mostly unbuttoned, and everything from the waist down had been discarded— he felt completely exposed, a little afraid of what was going to happen next. He knew what had to happen, of course, knew the basic mechanics of it, but any more than that—   
“Spread your legs, baby. Let me see you.”   
Sam raised his head, aware that the growl in John’s voice, the low, breathless way he’d asked him to….  
It sent a deep and delicious shiver down his spine, and this command too he obeyed, realizing John was now kneeling in front of the desk, those large, warm hands again cradling Sam’s knees.   
“Lie back, baby, please. Don’t worry.”   
Sam could feel his skin, thrumming as if run through with electricity, his heart now beating so fast it didn’t seem to be beating at all. Every muscle in his body ached. He felt everything at once, everything he thought he possibly could feel, and then—and then—  
Then John’s mouth was on him, and one strong finger wriggled slowly inside, all at once. This was new, this was completely new, and it wasn’t as scary as he’d thought. He thought he’d turn to water before it was over; his back arched up from the desk and his feet flailed as John worked on him, pressing a second finger inside of him.   
“Does that feel okay, baby? Does that feel good?” John breathed, rising back to his feet to look down at Sam, whose hands gripped the edges of the desk so hard his knuckles were white.   
“Yes, yes, oh god yes! That feels—amazing, I—” Somehow, Sam found the strength to raise himself up again, pushing himself back into a sitting position with his arms. He grabbed the back of John’s head, burying his fingers in his hair and pulling their faces together again.   
John’s hand worked under him, and as he inserted a third finger, Sam gasped, and his eyes shot open.   
Over John Auckland’s shoulder, he could see Al. Now Al wasn’t even bothering to look away, he had pocketed the handlink, and he was watching Sam, eyes wide, fists clenched, face glowing with sweat.   
“Lydia? Lydia, are you okay?” asked John, panting openly in Sam’s ear. He was pulling Sam back down against the desk, and whether consciously or not, his hips were rolling against Sam’s; Sam could feel Auckland’s cock against his bare thigh, and he thought wildly of Al again, Al watching this, wondered what the Observer was thinking—  
“Y-yes, yes John I’m okay, I’m ready! I’m ready!” He said it again, realizing it was true. He felt a sharp pressure when John positioned himself, had a second to feel just a fluttering of fear, and then—  
“Ah, god!” It hurt a little, he was present enough to notice that, but then John’s hands covered his gripping the edge of the desk, and Sam’s legs wrapped tightly around John’s waist, and it was happening, the sturdy wooden desk rocking a little on its four legs, papers and pens scattered forgotten on the floor.   
John’s rhythm slowed, and one of his hands came down to touch Sam’s cheek. “Are you alright?” He asked, gazing directly into Sam’s eyes, and his expression was so tender, it took Sam completely by surprise. He’d forgotten in the heat of things that John Auckland really seemed to love Lydia Fox, that according to Ziggy they were supposed to end up together.   
“I—y-yes, I’m fine, I’m more than fine, I’m—” Sam stopped, unsure of what to say, blushing furiously.   
John leaned down and kissed him fully, running the tip of his tongue along the inside curve of Sam’s bottom lip. Sam moaned, dropping one of his hands from the edge of the desk to grip the back of one of John’s sturdy thighs. “Keep going, please,” he whispered.   
John matched his moan and obeyed, his hips rocking more urgently into Sam, filling him, making the feet of the desk squeal against the wooden floor. At one point, Sam tightened his grip with his legs, pulling John in more tightly, his heels digging into the sweat-slicked flesh of Auckland’s lower back, and that seemed to do something: John’s cries became more guttural, his pace quickened.   
He was very nearly slamming Sam into the desk at this point, no longer holding himself up but draped over Sam as near dead-weight.   
“Oh god, oh god, oh Christ, baby it’s comin’, it’s comin’!”  
Sam didn’t care anymore. He wanted it, could feel the tension building in John’s muscles, in his thighs and his back, and he bit down hard with his fingernails into John’s shoulders, his head thrown back over the opposite edge of the desk, seeing stars and bright white lights, hardly believing any of this was actually happening but oh so beyond thinking about it.   
He held his arms wrapped tightly around John’s neck as he felt the man come, rode it out as long as he could before giving in to his own release. He lifted his hips up from the desk, his own muscles straining, his eyes squeezed so tightly shut that lightening danced behind the lids.   
When both their bodies relax, the air is heavy, and silent. Sam lets his arms fall away from John’s neck. He watched the man, waiting, and after a moment John opens his eyes and looks down at him.   
And he smiles, and it is dazzling. “Hello, you.”   
Sam smiles uncertainly back, again pleasantly surprised but still quite unsure what to think. “Um, hi.”  
John’s smile dims just a little, and he lifts himself away from the desk. He stands, very nearly completely naked, and looks down at Sam. He offers his hand, and Sam takes it, sitting up. Doing so makes Sam very, very aware of all the muscles in his body that’ve just been used.   
John raises a tender hand to Sam’s cheek again, this time holding it there.   
“Are you alright?”   
Sam nods.   
“I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, did I?”  
Sam shakes his head.   
John pauses, then leans forward and kisses him softly on the cheek. “I do love you, you know.”  
Amazingly, these words bring tears to Sam’s eyes, and he blinks them away rapidly, his mind whirling. He reaches out for John’s hand and takes it in his own.   
“And I love you, J-John.”   
The broad, dazzling smile is back. Sam sees it, and feels a funny fluttering in his chest. He quickly looks away from Auckland and surveys the office around them.   
The desk has been completely cleared, and Auckland’s pens, pencils, legal pad, and blotter are all on the floor, mixed in with their clothes. Lydia’s typewriter, luckily, is unmoved on her little desk.   
John chuckles. “We made quite a mess, huh?”   
Impossibly, Sam feels himself blushing again. “Uh, yeah we sure did.”  
He’s searching for something else to say when he hears the Imaging Chamber door slide open.   
“Oh. My. God.”  
Auckland is already pulling his socks and trousers back on, so has his back to Sam when Tina appears. Sam takes a sidestep behind the desk and crouches slightly, to hide anything important from her view.   
“Way to go Sammy!” She squeals, her eyes wide and sparkling.   
Sam grimaces, both at her enthusiasm and at the dull ache in his lower back. He picks up and pulls on the tiny skirt, avoiding Tina’s eyes as he forgoes the panties for the balled-up blouse.   
To her credit, Tina averts her gaze as the two finish dressing in near silence; John is humming something, and as Sam finishes pulling on Lydia’s mostly ruined clothing, he recognizes it: Mack the Knife.   
“Fancy gloves, though, wears ol’ Macheath, babe, so there’s never, never a trace of red,” he sings quietly, smiling a little.   
Auckland straightens, buttoning the second to top button on his dress shirt. He grins. “Say, what’s a nice girl like you doing knowing the words to that song, huh?”   
Sam gestured down at himself. “Obviously I’m not a nice girl.” He said it with a smile, but there was a bite to his words that even Tina heard. She and John both frowned.   
Auckland took a step towards Sam, pressing a warm, gentle hand to his forearm. He leaned in close, his breath tickling the sweat-damp strands of hair on Sam’s forehead.   
“Hey, hey that’s not right. You think what we just did was wrong?”  
Sam shook his head, despite himself. He reached out and fiddled with the loose top button of Auckland’s shirt, unable to meet his eyes.   
“Didn’t I make you feel good? Huh?” Now his voice had gone a little rough around the edges again, and it made Sam shiver.   
“Y-yeah, yeah you did,” he said, nearly in a whisper.   
John tipped Sam’s face up towards his own, forcing him to meet his eyes. “And we’re both grown-ups, right? And I—I love you. And you love me.”   
Sam sighed, feeling a funny little knot pull itself tighter in his chest. “Yeah.”  
Before he could move, Auckland drew him in, close to his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. The taller man’s lips tickled Sam’s ear.   
“Okay then.”  
Over John’s shoulder, Sam saw Tina, silently clapping her hands together with glee. Then, the whole world went blue and fuzzy around the edges, all sounds were swept from his ears, all sensation ceased, and he leaped. 

 

“Are you alright, Admiral Calavicci?”  
“Cram it, Ziggy.”  
“Ooh, naughty. Do you speak to all your girls that way?”  
Al was back in his room, near enough to the Project’s computer room that he heard the tell-tale signs of Sam’s next leap. It was the first time he didn’t jump up and move as quickly as he could towards the sound.   
He sat, on his bed, with his head in his hands and a hot flush of red covering him from cheek to chest. His body thrummed in a way he hadn’t known it still could, and with his eyes shut tight he couldn’t erase the image of Sam, pinned to the desk and absolutely moaning for it.   
“In case you were wondering, Dr. Beckett has already leapt again. He won’t remember a thing.”  
Al could almost hear the computer pause saucily, suggestively. “But it’s not his memory you’re concerned about, is it? Or Miss Martinez, although she was there for most of it, and I can only imagine what it did to her. Maybe the two of you can compare notes.”  
Al didn’t flatter Ziggy with a response; instead he stood up, very slightly loosened his tie, and strode purposefully towards his door. “Kill the lights, and lock the door behind me,” he commanded, not calling the program by name as he usually did. It was the closest he supposed he could get to insulting a pile of microchips.   
“Ay, ay, Admiral,” replied Ziggy, sounding not the least bit put off. The room went dark behind him.


End file.
